Panem's Got Talent
by GaleOlivia
Summary: Cost and Co-Host Caesar Flickerman and Katniss Everdeen embark on the most fierce talent competition yet. It's up to YOU READERS to decide who wins the ultimate grand prize of - say it with me now; - PANEM'S. GOT. TALENT!
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Hey, Hey everyone! It's me, Caesar Flickerman, and I am your host for – say it with me now – PANEM'S GOT TALENT!" Caesar speaks with a crescendo throughout his entire sentence, and the audience just goes wild.

"And here's my co-host KATNISS EVERDEEEEEN!" The audience nearly tips over in their chairs, and I can't help but notice that three-fourths of the audience is, in fact, people of the capitol. I swing my braid over my shoulder, give the corniest smile I have, and walk down the stage as the fireworks above me explode.

"Now that the Hunger Games are gone, who wants to have some fun?" Caesar mocks my corny, cliché little tone, and he continues on with the show.

"Now, this year, ten of Panem's most talented individuals will go head to head in a fierce competition! Now, our nation's most adorable, beautiful, and fierce mascot, Katniss Everdeen will show you your contestants!" The jeopardy music blasts at a ridiculous level behind me, and I can barely even hear myself speak.

Peeta Mellark – He can bake bread faster than your grandmother!

Gale Hawthorne – His shooting skills are so sharp, you'll nearly pee yourself!

Effie Trinket – She can't sing, and she can't dance, but woah! Are her time management skills sick!

Haymitch Abernathy – He can concoct a drink so delicious, you'll be begging on your knees!

Mrs. Everdeen – Katniss's mom has miracle hands! She can cure anything! Let's just hope she doesn't bring back the dead…

Lady the Goat – Baah Baah black sheep has NUTHIN on this rapper of a goat!

Random Avox – She's quiet, but MAN she is good at staring contests!

Greasy Sae – She can make soup out of anything! Seriously… Anything….

President Paylor – She can put ANYONE to sleep with her politic talk!

Buttercup – The cutest feline you'll ever have the pleasure of eating! Meeting! Meeting! I'm joking everyone….. seriously….

"And those are your contestants, everyone!" Caser bellows out, letting me catch my breath after all those names. He obviously knows I suck at the hosting stuff. He winks at me, and that's my cue for me to give my most serious, dramatic smile while I deliver "The News". As the audience's claps and woops settle down to a mere silence, I whisper rapidly, "That's not it, everyone. To get this season started, we have decided to kick one contestant off already! Who will it be? What unfortunate, creature of human deserves this unlawful fate? That's up to YOU to decide! See you next week, this is Katniss Everdeen, and this is – say it with me now – PANEM'S GOT TALENT!"

Hellooooo everyone! This is how this is going to work: Drop me a PM or a REVIEW telling me who should GO HOME! I will tally the votes up, and then I will start another chapter. This is just kinda a little fun story, and we will see who wins – say it with me now;) lolol – PANEM'S GOT TALENT! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Putting my earpiece in, I straighten my maroon skirt, and prepare for the show. _Oh God, this is corny, _I think. Despite the tackiness of the show, I chuckle to myself. Being in the hunger games, I would have never imagined such a show like this. Let's do this thing.

"Ready, cupcake?" Caesar, in an electric yellow suit and tie, sings in my ear. I smirk, and walk onto the blinding stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, people of Panem, I bring you to your finest and most-watched show in Panem!" I squint as I try and remember my next lines.

"I am Katniss Everdeen, and boy do we have a show for you tonight! Hey! Here's Caesar now, with last week's surprise vote!" The crowd screams even louder for Casesar, his looks and over all personality gets the capitol people every time.

"Last week, we decided that one contestant had to go home, before they even got the chance to perform! Cruel! I know, I know. So, who's going home? Let's find out! Katniss, bring on out all the acts."

The lights dimmed, the stage has a sort of spooky essence. Caesar, the gold encrusted envelope in hand, has a solemn look on his face. As if it was such a tragedy for whatever useless contestant has to go back home. Boo hoo.

"And the contestant going home tonight is…." After a painfully long pause, he announces,

"I am sorry, Avox. You must go home. But give her a hand! Everyone, join in!" I clap and hug the Avox, and she makes this weird animal noise in the back of her throat, and I clench my ears because its creepy as heck. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I prepare for the talent that is supposed to make my eyes glued to the television.

"Up first, we have Peeta Mellark! This baker is serious, so you better watch out!" I laugh at Caesar's complete fail at trying to make _baking_ sound _manly_. Peeta walks out onto the stage, oven mits on his hands. And on his feet. I hold my hands up as if to say, "What the heck is wrong with you?" But he walks boldly onto the stage. The minute hand is placed on the clock, and he tells the audience he can bake fifteen sheets of cookies in a minute. Woah. You better bring a gun or something if you run into a fight with Peeta. Bad to the bone, that boy is.

Thirty seconds in, Peeta's brow is furrowing as he quickly fiddles with the oven, take cookies out, and puts more in. Forty five seconds has now elapsed. Fifty. Fifty five. As the last seconds tick away, and as he puts in the last tray, he cartwheels back in pain, grasping his hands.

"Oh! And that's the timer! Peeta almost made it too! That was a close one. Hopefully he can still get vote! And… um…. Mother of God, Peeta, are you okay?" Casesar bellows out from his elevated balcony. Peeta is on the blue-tinted stage and crying, no, weeping like a child. He rolls around and rocks himself. Apparently his oven mitten slipped off. Before commercial, camera flashes to me, and with a crooked smile, half laughing, I say "To.. haha… um… to vote for Peeta make sure you do it soon! You know, before he dies crying!"

Gale Hawthorne

Holding the arrow backwards, he attempts to shoot a bull's eye. I stand backstage, mortified, at his shooting "skills". After his time is up, I march defiantly onto the stage, and declare into the microphone, "Gale. Shooting is my talent. Do you even know how to shoot? " Cussing under his breath that his 'cover was blown' he rips off his shirt, displaying his amazing body. Amazing. He seems to glow, and he prances and struts around the stage half-naked like a beauty pageant contestant. Well, I would certainly vote for him! His abs and biceps are visible from space, and his smile is as big and white as the moon. I almost run up to him myself, just so I can feel his abs. You know its good when good old Caesar even starts clapping.

Effie Trinket

Wearing a saffron powdered wig, Effie clicks her heels on her way to the center of the stage. I raise my eyebrows, uncertain how time-management can be put into a one-minute show. After giving nearly a fifteen-minute explanation of her whole act, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and begins. Rapidly putting on makeup, she changes her entire getup from saffron shades and maroon tones, to aqua blues and sea-greens. After that, she shows everyone she can jog in place for ten seconds in seven-inch heels, and then runs around like a maniac, baking, painting, and filing papers. Okay, she wasn't a fail, and she even made prancing like a mountain goat look good in heels.

Haymitch Abernathy

Crawling onto the stage, clearly already wasted, Haymitch staggers over towards his mini bar and starts mixing all the vodka, rum, and beer he owns in a big tub. Probably the tub he bathed in earlier. From where I am perched on another balcony, I can see he started adding cupcakes, cherries, pies, and ice-cream into the tub. I cringe, but then loosen up because I'm actually second guessing how gross the drink really is. For kicks, Caesar saunters over towards the tub and actually starts begging on his knees for a sip. The crowd loves it, and when Haymitch is supposed to come off the stage, Caesar pokes him for another drink.

Mrs. Everdeen

The stench from the deceased reeks the stage as my mother skips onto the center mark. In her little body bag, a dead rabbit lies limp. I think this whole caretaker gig has gone too far. She's like a medium now. Or maybe just possessed. I mentally scold myself for thinking about my mother like that. My mom, hands waving in circular swirls and dips over the rabbit, starts hooting and yelping like a wild animal. Her screams steady into a chant as she attempts at bringing the dead back into the world. I close my eyes. My nightmares are pleny scary enough. After one minute is up, my mother hangs her head in disappointment. When suddenly the rabbit hops up from the mahogany table (COMPLIMENTS OF EFFIE TRINKET) and hops off into the V.I.P. area where the richest of the rich are seated.

Lady

Bahhhhhh Bahhhhhhhh! The dubstepping goat is too much for me, so I shake my head and just walk off stage.

Greasy Sae

Age certainly hasn't been kind on my old friend, Sae. She looks roughly about twenty years older than she really is. Her hair is thinning into little wispy patches, and her face looks like she's constantly squinting. Her hands are overflowing with pots and sauce pans, vegetables and spices. As her oven steams like a train, she constantly adds more and more to her concoction. "I can make anything out of soup!" She says under her breath several times. She then stops with the veggies and other edible thing. Greasy Sae then rips of Caesar's tie, adds it in the soup. Caesar's skeptical expression is enough to say, "Vote for Sae, if you have the balls to do it!" He looks creeped out, but laughs anyway.

President Paylor

Obviously still scared by her near- vote off, Paylor makes her way up to her formal looking podium. Ms. President was one little vote from going home along with the Avox.

"Hopefully she can prove herself worthy, or else we'll cut her head off, and eat her!" I try and joke, with my little medieval accent, but I can tell that maybe I wasn't too convincing on the "joke" part. For thirty long, agonizing seconds, Paylor talks about how we help and contribute to oil reduction, and crap like that. She catches onto boredom fast, because then she's squealing,

"A vote for ME means free Ice creaME!"

Buttercup

Buttercup, giving me a growl as I set him down on her down on the big red X, licks herself clean as the jumbo-tron does a major close up on him. His mashed up nose is powdered pink and his paw nails are a lime green. His little torn up ears are covered in bows of a matching shade. He actually does look cute and as he gallops around, flicking his tail occasionally, and meowing like a crying, needy child. Finishing his minute, I can truthfully say this was the most pointless, yet cute (This is excluding Gale's performance, which was cuteness OVER LOAD) performance of the night.

"Well there you have it folks! Vote, vote, vote because nobody is safe! Will your favorite act be going home? Who knows? Well see y'all next week, this is Caesar Flickerman signing you out on, -say it with me now!- PANEM'S. GOT. TALENT."

OKAY…. So this was a REALLY REALLY bad chapter:(

So Imma cry in my corner now:(

Jkjk:)

PM OR REVIEW THE STORY SO WE CAN SEE WHO GOES HOME!

A MASSIVE MASSIVE thank you to all my voters!

Stay creative, Stay beautiful,

Olivia :)


	3. Chapter 3

Walking around a spotlight in the middle of the stage, I reach up and try to fix my headset that Cinna oh-so-poorly assembled.

"We're on in five, people", I hear through crackling in my ear. My insides are vibrating as if it's the first show. I don't even know why I volunteered for this freak show. I think I'd rather withstand another hunger games than be a host for Panem's Got Talent. Rushing to the remake center I double-check all my makeup, fearing that I'll look like Effie. I try and touch up my aqua eyeliner, but I'm distracted by a purring at my feet. Expecting the nuisance of Buttercup, I gaze down to something much more appalling.

In his ash colored suit, Peeta walks on all fours, nudging my head and purring.

"What in Snow's name are you doing? Oh my gosh, Cinna! Cinna! Someone help me before I strangle this boy and throw him into a snake pit!"

"Jeez, Katniss, just trying to earn some brownie points, I really don't want to make the long and treacherous quest home." In his dramatic tone and snooty grin, I walk away, making sure my heels click extra loud on the sunset yellow linoleum tiles. Well, that Panem for you.

"Can I get a Woot Woot from our amazing crowd? Come on ladies and gentleman, let me hear you nice and loud!" Smacking my hand against my head, I give Caesar two dejected "Whoot"s.

"Please, that's enough for the applause. Now give it to the most beautiful girl in Panem, Katniss Everdeen!" My dimples gather on my cheeks, and a steady shade of blush appears not long after. Strutting over to the green glass podium, gold envelope in hand, I swing my braid over towards the other shoulder.

"You voted last week to see who gets kicked off! And it is with my great pleasure… no, whoops, I mean it is with great sadness that in fact, the person going home is… Paylor! Such a journey this President has had with us. It's a shame to see you go, even though you sucked. " The audience got quite the laugh out of that one. Ok what kind of nation is this? Insults equal laughter. Ok. Got it.

Mrs. Everdeen

In a saffron gown, flowing out onto the sparkling floor, my mother gently dances her way onto center stage. She twists and turns as if she were a spokes model. Her poise and elegance is captivating, but the dead deer carcass she's holding above her head like a wrestling champion kind of makes up for that. Smashing it onto the ground, my 'Hulk' of a mother takes her bedazzled chainsaw and starts mauling the still deer.

"See this damage?" She screams into the air, and rampages down to the audience. Grabbing a little boy's chin and holding it up to her face, she whispers with rage, "See the damage, little boy?" After he starts crying, and his eyes have enlarged to match the deer's, the woman I am ashamed to call my mother prances back to the carcuss, and gently stitches the shreds back together. It'd be wrong to call it a 'talent' but the deer looks good as new, and at least five people actually clapped for her.

Effie

After my mother's brutal performance, I almost encase Effie in one of my hugs, because her sweet essence lures in me to a more peaceful place rather than deer mauling. As soon as she opens her black-lined mouth, I want to push her off the stage and into the crying little boy.

"DUN DUN DUN! Females and Males, welcome to Effie's haunted house of time management! Today, I will be showing you a ten minute magic trick in just two minutes! I know you are all itching with excitement, so let us begin." Effie's charcoal colored wig flops around as the monstrous stage fans blast at her. Pulling a magic wand out of her machine gun bullet belt, she twirls and her black ruffled dress sweeps across the floor.

"Females and Males, you see this glass podium behind me? Marvelous. Well it would usually take ten whole minutes to change it into a rabbit, but because my time management skills are so keen, I can do it in just merely two minutes. I sigh miserably, and tuck my duck tail in the back into my laced skirt. Watching Effie, a smile grasps at my lips, and I can't help but laugh as she grunts and screams as she repeatedly hits the podium with her wand. As time elapses, you can see the sweat working it's intricate path down her powdered face. One minute thirty seconds. The audience's faces are glowing with entertainment, and some of them actually cheer her on. Just as the bell rings, the podium smashes into a million tiny shards of glass, and with a puff of smoke, a column of bats fly upward. Effie bellows into the air, a mad scientist clearly blooming, and takes a curtsey.

Peeta Mellark

I'm relatively surprised to see Peeta run out, standing on just his two legs. Brownie points… What was he thinking? His ash suit illuminates his eyes, and he looks pretty decent for being a baker and all. The music fades in softly, and and Peeta starts to hum a long with it. A glass wall lowers down and twelve cookies are secured to the front of it. Taking out what seems to be a frosting gun, Peeta dances and somersaults around, spraying butterscotch icing into the audience. When the music alturntates from a ballet into a dramatic violin piece, he turns around, secures a blindfold onto his face, and shoots all twelve cookies with frosting. Missing more than three quarters of them, he takes a bow, and proceeds in his frosting massacre into the audience.

Greasy Sae

Greasy Sae, who usually lives up to her name, comes out in a grandma costume, and it's at least forty years old. She has the looks to pull it off, but the valentine pink dress with cream colored lace doesn't resemble her – at all. She scuffs across the stage in black clunky loafers, and white socks that go up to her bony kneecaps.

"Little children, come up to the first row, please, come visit old granny!" All the children from the audience rush up to row one, and Greasy – Granny Sae claps with enthusiasm.

"Now today old Granny is going to make you children some candy soup!" Trying not to regurgitate all the fancy food I ate before the show, I watch in horror as Sae dumps gumdrops, licorice, chocolate, lollipops, marshmallows, you name it, into a big bedazzled cauldron. As for the broth, she adds in an entire gallon of corn syrup and a pitcher of melted caramel. I walk off stage before I have a chance to watch all these children die from the horrors of the cauldron.

Haymitch

In a sports coat and black jeans, my not-so-sober mentor staggers into the spotlight. His delusional expression is very promising of ninety seconds of pure confusion, but he steps forward and explains his act.

"Little children, come up to the first row, please, visit old Haymitch. Have a drink or two!" All the kids run, screaming and flailing their arms, back to their parents, who are now shielding their eyes with their own hands. Shrugging his shoulders, with a grin sneaking its way across his mouth, Haymitch continues chatting, while he fills eight shot glasses with different concoctions. Giving up on his sentence, I figure he's going to guess all eight drinks, blindfolded. Taking at least twenty-five seconds to turn around and blindfold himself, he starts his tasting game. As dysfunctional as Haymitch may be, he got all the drinks correct. International, wine, beer, you name it, he guessed it. I clap at the end, amused, not by his 'talent', but rather that he's still standing and breathing simultaneously.

Lady

Expecting to hear Lady's clopping on the waxed stage floor, I hear the audience gasping and commenting, all while their eyes are fixed intently on the ceiling. Looking up myself, I cusp my hands over my mouth. Lady is attached to eight different fasts and pulleys, being lowered down into the air. And what's worse is that she is wearing my dress. Myyy dress. My blazing interview dress is draped over her arched back, coming down her hindquarters and covering her hooves. The flames lick the side of her stomach and she has a fire-decorated milking pale on her head. Not even the least bit anxious, she floats through the air, calling to the audience. The camera flashes to me and I try my best not to look frazzled and irritated. Sorry. I'm not that good of an actress.

Buttercup

After all the insanity, I'm crying from happiness when I see Madge walk out with Buttercup on a leash. He looks miserable and his eyes are so tight together, you would of though they just sunk right into his head. His whiskers are drooping and wet with some sort of makeup. Dragging his tail on the floor, Buttercup walks the stage, Madge trying extremely hard to make this look interesting. She smiles and shrugs at the camera, but as she loops around by me, I could see the pleading in her eyes. An orange hula-hoop with flashing lights is lowered to the stage, and as I'm hoping he jumps through it or something, he walks midway through it, collapses, and starts his nap. Paylor, please come back.

Gale

I can't help but blush a little when Gale comes on. He's wearing something similar to parachute pants, but I don't even mind. His shirt is somewhere, that no one really cares about. Point is, it's not on him and you can see the muscles flex with every step he takes. Not taking a single break from smiling or flexing, he walks around the stage, filled with fake grass as he sets nearly a hundred snares, all spread apart. His hands move around each other like dance partners, and his shoulders follow every movement with such precision. After ninety seconds, he claps his hands together, as he acknowledges the One hundred snares he completed. After looking down for a dramatic effect, Gale holds his hand out to me desperately, so I join him on stage. Acting like he doesn't know me, he twirls me around and then dips me in his gentle hands.

"Hope you don't trip and fall in love with me." He winks, and spins me off stage.

Dazed by Gale's last performance, Caesar pushes past me, and gives the audience his welcoming smirk.

"Well ladies and gentlemen, what a show! All these acts deserve to go thorugh! But what poor, unfortunate, soul must leave us next week? That's up to you! This is Caesar, and Katniss is somewhere… but this is – say it with me now – PANEM'S. GOT. TALENT!"

**Okayy, thanks for reading, love! So YOU THE READER has to vote to see who goes HOME. So don't vote for your favorite, vote for who you want to go home! I love ALL OF YOU, my beautiful hunger games obsessors. Sorry this chapter was so poopy, I just wanted to update reeeealy bad. Well, thanks again love!;)**

**Olivia:) **


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